Thinking of You
by DebajoDeLaCafeina
Summary: It's an anniversary, and Ziva reflects on the sibling she lost. Oneshot. Zivacentric.


(Disclaimer: Rie & Kelsey own nothing, except a snail, a cat and a small mountain of novelty Halloween food. And definitely not NCIS.)

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Ziva sighed as she locked her car and turned to walk to her apartment. It had been a long day - not a particularly exciting day, or an unusual day, just a long day that seemed to have sucked the energy from her and left her feeling drained. They had been wrapping up a case they had finally finished the previous week, so Tony, McGee and Ziva herself had spent most of the day tying up loose ends in their paperwork. She and Tony had argued good-naturedly and flicked paper clips at each other. McGee had soon been distracted by his online computer game, prompting Tony to tease him mercilessly when he came back from the coffee run and spotted McGee playing as an Elf Lord again. Abby had dropped in and sat for an hour chatting to the team, and Gibbs had come and gone, in and out of meetings with the Director and finishing up their last case once and for all. Just a normal day - as normal as NCIS ever got, Ziva thought to herself. But today she had just been going through the motions, as if she was watching the scene from the sidelines but not really being there. It was a familiar feeling; she had felt the same on this day ever since she had learned to block out her feelings - at least around others. At first the pain had been a raw open wound, threatening to eat her up from the inside. Then she had learned to reinforce her heart, and concentrate on whatever job was at hand. Emotions were for private moments, when she was alone and didn't have to be afraid to let herself feel. She felt almost angry at herself for pushing those memories - all she had left of _her_ - to the back of her mind, hiding them away, burying them deep inside herself. She sighed as she turned the key in the lock and let herself in. But she was home now. She could resurrect her internal demons, and allow herself to take off her mask and wallow in memories. At least until the alarm went off the following morning and a new day of hiding her feelings had begun. 

Ziva didn't bother to turn on the main lights when she got in; just taking off her shoes and walking straight through to her kitchen. Unlike a lot of people having her apartment in darkness didn't unnerve her. She had no fear of what might be lurking in a corner, hiding in the shadows. She had taken on adversaries more formidable than anything that could conceivably be waiting to get her behind a door in her own home. Even as a young girl she hadn't feared the dark, the monster in the wardrobe, the creatures that swam in her mind; awake in that shadowy place between falling asleep and waking. Sometimes, when they were still children, she and Tali would sit up in one of their beds, making up ghost stories in the dead of night, whispering into the dead silence. Though she was the younger of the two, Tali's stories, of vampires and werewolves and the face outside the window, could be so vividly conjured up in the mind of the child Ziva that she would be almost afraid, and would return to her own bed clutching her stuffed animals tightly for reassurance. And Tali would laugh and tell her that it was only a story. Ziva half smiled as she took off her coat and turned on her kettle mechanically, needing something to do with her hands. Tali's laugh could light up the dimmest of rooms, lift the darkest of moods. Whenever she remember Tali she was always laughing, smiling; a happy child. A happy child who never got the chance to grow up. The kettle began to boil, the water simmering like Ziva's own thoughts.

They had always been close, ever since Tali's birth when Ziva had held her baby sister so proudly in her arms. As they had grown up, they had become each others primary confidante, sharing and keeping secrets. Tali had looked up to Ziva, turning to her for advice and guidance. After their mother's death, Ziva became the matriarch of the family; the only strong female for Tali to look to for support. Likewise, Ziva had trusted her younger sister completely, allowing her sister to get under her guard and really know her - something she had never allowed anyone else to do, not even their own father. Even when she had entered Mossad, being the first of the two to do so, Tali had still been the one person Ziva had allowed herself to really feel for. When Tali had joined after Ziva; each became the only person the other truly trusted. Their bond had only been strengthened by the transition into adulthood. A transition Ziva felt Tali had never really had the chance to complete.

Ziva closed her eyes momentarily, to prevent her thoughts from overwhelming her, as she poured hot water over the single teabag in her mug. Stir, add a little milk, stir again...she repeated the action on autopilot, lost in her memories. It was years ago, she should have been able to deal with it by now. But Ziva being a Mossad agent - and Ziva being Ziva, more than anything else - she had blocked out her feelings and allowed herself to remember only when she was alone. And on the anniversary of Tali's death, the feelings caught her and dragged her down, pulling her back to that terrible day when Tali's life was snuffed out like a candle before Ziva's eyes. She picked the cup up in her slightly shaking hands, and sat down at her small table.

They had been watching the safe-house of a known arms dealer and terrorist. Ziva had often wondered what the hell she had been thinking, letting her little sister come on such a dangerous and risk-ridden operation. But it was only surveillance, and Tali had proven herself more than once within their agency. Despite being younger than everyone else involved, she had gone along. They had officers stationed around the area, dressed in normal civilian clothes to prevent residents getting suspicious. Their suspect was nowhere to be seen. Ziva and two of her superiors had been hidden out of sight, receiving feedback from the others via radio. Ziva remembered word for word the last transmission she had from Tali. The last words Tali had ever spoken.  
'Ziva, it's me' If it had been anyone else Tali would have used formal language and referred to Ziva as 'Agent David' - and she did, whenever anyone else was around. But between Ziva and Tali, who had known each other since the latter was born, first name terms were all that felt right, even an an assignment.  
'Tali' Ziva had recognized her sister's voice in an instant. 'Have you seen anything?'  
'Not yet. I spotted someone moving around inside a moment ago, we're keeping a careful eye on the upper windows in case we see him again. He might try to exit fast if he suspects he's being watched, so be careful'  
'Me? You're the one who's out there on the street' Ziva had protested. 'Thank you, Tali. Take care'  
'I will' Tali had replied. 'Over and out'  
And with that, the transmission had ended. Ziva and her superiors had kept watch on the area from their vantage point in an opposite building. Tali and the others were on the crowded street below, blending in perfectly. Ziva had always admired Tali's ability to blend in perfectly with any situation or crowd without arousing a hint of suspicion. She hated the fact that the bomber had done this just as well.

They had been monitoring the area for several hours and were just about to radio Tali and the others to tell them to return to their designated meeting point when all of a sudden, the noise of the explosion ripped through the street. The air was on fire and dust and debris were flying. Ziva was knocked backwards onto the floor, but when she opened her eyes she could only focus on one thing: _Tali_.  
Ziva was on her feet and running for the door before her superiors could register she had gone, her heart pounding, choking her even more than the dust in the air.  
_Tali, Tali, Tali...  
_Ziva remembered pushing her way through screaming civilians; people crying, injured...but she didn't see any of them. She was only searching for one person; the others, the innocent people, their suspect, the other agents could all go to hell until she found Tali.  
_Tali, Tali, Tali...  
_She had listened, straining her ears as she fought through the crowd, to hear over the cries and yells of the other people Tali calling her name. She would be frightened, maybe injured. Ziva looked desperately around for a sign of her sister.  
_Tali, Tali, Tali...  
_She had found the place she last saw Tali standing; so close to the immediate explosion that the walls were black on either side. There were people crouching on the floor, crying, injured; some not moving at all. Ziva clenched her fists and carried on searching, praying to God that Tali would not be among the people lying unmoving on the floor.  
_Tali, Tali, Tali...  
_Then she saw her. Lying face up on the hard ground a few feet away, covered in blood and dust. Ziva had moved towards Tali so fast, but she had seen it as if in a dream. She had hoped it was a dream, that she would wake up and Tali would be safe and well. But she was awake, and Tali was sleeping - never to wake up. Ziva had started to shake her sister when she reached her, talking to her, calling her name, pushing her long hair out of the blood on her face.  
'Tali, Tali, wake up...Tali, please don't be...please, Tali, it's Ziva, you'll be okay, you have to be, just wake up...' Ziva had begun to cry, but she couldn't remember when. Her superiors and the other agents had caught up with her, all unhurt, as she knelt on the floor trying to revive Tali. Yet everybody but Ziva knew Tali was past revival now.

Clutching her cold tea in her hands, Ziva shook her head slightly to rid herself of the memory or Tali's dead body, lying on the floor in a bloodied and dusty mess. Then her funeral. Ziva had not allowed herself to cry again, merely praying with everyone else who had come to pay their last respects to one of Mossad's finest young agents. Tali David had been only sixteen years old when she had died and most of their agency had cared more about the fact that their suspect had disappeared than Tali's death. None of them had known her as Ziva had. None of them knew Ziva as Tali had - and now she was gone forever, to rot in the ground. Ziva imagined Tali in her coffin now; bones, or dust by this time. Did she know, wherever she was, that Ziva was thinking of her? She hoped so. Throwing her tea down the sink and swallowing to try and get rid of the lump in her throat, Ziva turned off the light and headed for her bedroom. Sleep. If she could sleep tonight, it would be a welcome relief from being haunted while awake by memories of Tali's death, years ago today. She could only hope that she didn't visit Tali's grave in her dreams again tonight.

The first thing Ziva saw in her bedroom was the photograph on her bedside table. It had been there since she moved in, never moved from that spot. It was the first thing she saw when she awoke and usually the last thing she saw at night. Herself and Tali, young girls, possibly teenagers again. Laughing in the warm sunlight in their backyard, arms around each other. Tali was laughing, the laugh that echoed in Ziva's ears during so many nightmares. Her young face was radiant with youthful happiness. And there was Ziva, smiling in a way that she hadn't smiled for so long - truly happy, free to feel, free to show emotion. If they had known that only a few short years after that photograph was taken, Tali would be dead; would they still be laughing? Perhaps not. But even death had not kept Tali away. She was still there for Ziva. She could feel her there - and today it was the strongest of all.  
Ziva half-smiled to herself, stroking the rim of the photo frame as she lay down. A single tear trickled across her face as she looked at it one last time.  
'Goodnight, Tali' she whispered, and closed her eyes.

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(Wow, that took us longer than we thought it would. Like it? Hate it? Think we messed up? Tell us!) 


End file.
